


by happenstance (i'm just lucky)

by suspendedreality



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018) Actor RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Established Joe/Rami (Mazlek), Everyone Is Gay, M/M, Pining, Soulmates Swap Bodies For A Day AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-21 13:58:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18703711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suspendedreality/pseuds/suspendedreality
Summary: They say that there’s two sides to every story. While that’s true most of the time, to say that in this case would put things in a rather… limited perspective.After all, there are four sides to this story. Four different accounts to what happened on that chipper May morning.Rather: the poly!borhap soulmate AU I didn't know I needed until I was waist-deep writing it.





	by happenstance (i'm just lucky)

**Author's Note:**

> i's half past 3am and i can no longer function as a human being
> 
> i've been working on this for... idk on and off for like 10 days. It's taken a lot. i was originally aiming for 3k but.  ** _vague waving_**
> 
> love you all bunches thanks for coming to my FicTalk, hope you enjoy
> 
> i looked this over best i could (at three am, half asleep), and i think i got most everything, but if i fucked up, im sorry. all mistakes re my own, bc i havent the patience to get a proper beta

They say that there’s two sides to every story. While that’s true most of the time, to say that in this case would put things in a rather… limited perspective.

After all, there are four sides to this story. Four different accounts to what happened on that chipper May morning.

It started off as something of a classic love story. Something for the ages.

Everyone knew that one day they would meet their soulmate. It was the stuff of dreams, to connect with the one destined for you.

For Joseph Mazzello III, he was 35. Disconnected (though he thought that was a silly term. How can you _dis_ connect from someone you’ve never connected with?) since birth — not that that was a problem, of course. He was eight years married that summer, living with the love of his life, the one man he would do absolutely anything in the world for, Rami Malek.

Rami didn’t have a soulmate either. They’d bonded over that detail in their initial meeting, and a point of worry later as their relationship progressed. The first year or so of their marriage there was a stilling anxiety with near every waking morning. Would one of them have their Swap? God forbid a stranger wake up next to them in their husband’s body.

Wouldn’t _that_ be just so entertaining to explain?

The worry settled soon enough. After all, if they were going to get Connected, wouldn’t it have happened by now?

As time passed and both men aged into their late thirties, it wasn’t even a worry anymore. The chances of a Connection were minesule at the _very_ best. They were very happily married, with no need of a connection outside of each other.

And so, the worry faded into the background, and eventually, it wasn’t even a passing thought in Joe’s mind.

This is why, on that late April day, he didn’t think anything of the shifting mattress around him.

“‘s it early?” he asked, voice thick with sleep and grogginess. He didn’t bother lifting his head up out of the pillows just yet. He expected a soft answer like _go back to sleep, just going for a run_ . Or maybe even something like _no, you’ve slept into the evening and you’ve missed all of your appointments, sorry Joey._

Well. Totally not the reply he received.

Something small, but heavy hurled itself into his back, and he startled, jerking up from his pillows with a yelp and a curse. The thing skittered off his back in an instant, with a yelp to match his and a deeper, moodier bark as it leapt off the bed and ran away. Joe heard little nails scratched against the hardwood floor as it made its retreat. It was a dog.

A _dog_ ? Holy shit, _what?_

Joe twisted, sitting up so he could scrub his knuckles into his eyes. He yawned and stretched out, finally coming into himself. He shook off his grogginess and finally opened his eyes.

What he was met with was _not_ his bedroom. It was smaller, for one. Less windows, and there was a little ivy draping itself across a chest of drawers, inching down the side to lick at the floor. The floors were wooden, and the walls were muted green. This wasn’t their bedroom at all. Joe blinked, trying to alleviate the bleariness that seemed to have collected behind his eyelids.

He blinked once more, hard, just to see if he’d wake up. That when he opened his eyes back up, he’d be curled in Rami’s arms and the sun would just be beginning to rise.

It didn’t. There were the walls, the ivy. The jacket laying in a rumpled heap in the corner of the room next to the free standing clothes rack.

“Oh Jesus Christ,” he gasped, before he cut himself off, freezing right.

That, good fellows, wasn’t Joe’s voice. He couldn’t pass that off as sleep-grogginess, either. It was deeper, pitched much differently than Joe’s own. “Mother of God” he spoke, testing his vowels. He still spoke like himself, but now he was noticing differences. His mouth felt different. He passed his tongue along his mouth. He couldn’t explain it, but it was… different. His lips felt different. This was — This wasn’t—

This wasn’t Joe’s body.

And if this wasn’t Joe’s body… whose _was it?!_

He tore the blankets off and got unsteadily to his feet. He tested his balance first, before he went off to find clues of anything. It was normal. Good. He didn’t feel any shorter, or anything, so this person was probably the same height as him.

Okay, okay, okay, Joe. Look. Focus. Where the _fuck_ were you? Who the fuck were you possessing?

He noticed the iPhone laying at the head of the mattress, a charging cable plugged in all snug. Figuring that was the best place to start, he unplugged it and thumbed it on. It took a passcode, but his thumbprint got him in just fine. That was something of a comfort, he guessed. At least the phone belonged to this person, and not someone else plugging around the apartment—

The thought had him pausing, eyes widening and hand curling tighter around the phone.

Sure, _he_ hadn’t woken up to anyone this morning, but Rami had. His apparent _soulmate_ had!

Oh God, he had to call Rami!

He thumbed through the phone applications, ignoring notifications and the 70’s era Roger Taylor wallpaper until he found the call tab. He punched in Rami’s cell phone number and waited, trying to keep his nervous vibrating to a minimum.

It didn’t work very well.

  


Gwilym woke up half hanging off the bed. His leg, crooked at the knee, hung precariously over the edge of the mattress, and his fingers brushed the carpet below.

The pillow smelled of a strange shampoo, and it roused him, curious to the new scent. He drew his hand up too rub at his eyes before he opened them. He looked at his hand and frowned. Those, dear friends, were not Gwilym’s hands. His eyes trailed down his fingers and up his wrist, his arm.

This certainly wasn’t his body.

He pulled himself up to his elbow and drew his legs back up to the mattress. Gwilym pinched at his cheek, determined to wake himself up from this strange dream. His beard was gone, replaced with a much lighter bit of morning scruff. The pinch did nothing. He pinched just under his jaw until he winced. Still nothing. No jolting up in bed, or coming-to suddenly in his own blankets.

He knew what this was. Soulmates. The big Swap. Trading places with your intended. Gwilym knew several of his friends who had gone through the same ordeal. Of course, most of them had been in their mid-to-late 20s.

Gwil thought that this might happen someday, but it had been a long time since he had considered it a _possibility_.

Christ. This was going to be a long day. Thank heaven he didn’t have work in the morning, or this would be something terrible to explain. 35 and newly Connected, calling in with a strange voice to register a sick day until he really got a thumb on where he was, whose body he was in. God, imagine what his mother would say!

He should find a phone, call his mobile. Hopefully it’d rouse his soulmate and maybe they could get some things straightened out. Maybe even have a nice chat. Yes, he was determined to keep a level head about this whole thing, and first thing’s first, he needed to know where he was in the world.

He didn’t get very far in this plan.

Why, one would ask?

Well, because there was someone in bed next to him. Spread all out on his stomach like a starfish with the blankets twisted around his waist and one of his legs. Quiet snores were coming from him, and Gwil couldn’t stop looking at him.

He, unlike his soulmate, slept in a tee shirt. It was rucked half up his ribcage, and ginger hair stuck out at odd angles. He shifted a little, drawing one of his arms closer to himself so he could scratch at his nose before settling down again.

There was a ring on his finger. A band of gold across his left ring finger.

A _wedding band_.

Oh dear God.

Gwil looked down to his own (his soulmate’s own?) hands to find a similar ring. Married. His soulmate was _married_.

If there was one thing that Gwil certainly hadn’t considered the fact that his soulmate might already be _with_ somebody. That was something you heard about sometimes, but not often. Certainly not as often as the ever-romantic _“We Connected and instantly fell in love!_ ” story types. That’s never a worry in one’s mind when thinking about your universe-intended...

This was something that they would have to delve into later. For now, he slipped out of bed, trying not to wake the sleeping man. Taking the smartphone that he’d found on the bedside table, Gwil crept to the ensuite, shutting the door behind himself. Pulling a deep sigh, he sat on the lid of the toilet and clicked on the phone. It was easy to get into, as the pad of his thumb unlocked the whole thing. He pulled up the dialpad and put his mobile number in. It rang, and he had to bite back to urge to chew his nail to the quick as he waited.

The fact that there was no answer didn’t help matters. Not a bit.

Gwil tried the line three more times before he gave up and set the mobile aside on the counter next to the sink basin.

Alright, so he was all on his own, then. He rather had hoped that he could get his soulmate on the phone before waking their partner. Surely they were going to take all of this… news… better from their partner, rather than their partner’s apparent soulmate—

This was going to be such a mess, he realized.

He tried to ring once more, for posterity. To settle his nerves. No results. His nerves were — surprise! — still alight.

Well, if he was to do this all on his own, maybe he could soften the blow. Breakfast, he decided. A good breakfast was always a good start. Nothing softens a blow like good food in the belly.

It wasn’t hard to find the kitchen, just down a short hallway. It was an open design, flowing right into a cozy little sitting area with a television and a coffee table. The whole room was well-lit by the windows set into the far wall. There were reflections glittering on the ceiling, cast by the sun on the pool outside.

It was charming, their home. Well lived-in. There was scattered memorabilia all around the house, pictures of Gwil’s soulmate and his (if the ring on his finger and the wedding pictures on the mantle had anything to say about it) husband. Vacations, candids…

They looked so happy, so familiar and in _love_ , that Gwil’s chest ached.

Breakfast. Yes, breakfast! Time to get back to that little detail.

There would be a time to lament the universe’s choice of soulmate for him later. Later, when say, after he had to break it to the man in the bedroom that his husband is in London for the moment.

This was surely going to be something.

  


Rami woke up to a tightness in his head. The uncomfortable kind of ache set behind his eyes, bleeding back behind his ears. Even without opening his eyes, he could tell the room around him was bright and overbearing.

He dragged the quilt over himself and covered his head with his arms, tucking down into himself as far as he could. He wasn’t ready to deal with today. This was too damn much.

He curled in on himself, puffing out a sharp breath and willing the pain to settle down — at least enough for him to take an easy breath.

Joe wasn’t in bed with him, but that was fine. He was most likely up with breakfast, or maybe holed up in his office by now, putting his nose to the grindstone.

Rami couldn’t even fathom working with this kind of headache.

Within minutes, he was back asleep, nestled between strange-smelling sheets and blissfully unaware of the world around him.

  


Ben’s free days were few and far between. His office hours were steady, 9-5 every week day. His weekends were spent with friends, playing with his dog Frankie and occasionally travelling up to see his mum. He found time for gym in the evenings, after work, sometimes in the morning if he got really ambitious.

His mornings were usually started off with Frankie finding her way into his room after deciding that he’d had _much_ too much sleep for her tastes and it was time that he got up. He’d take her on a walk before breakfast and then have plenty of time to shower and eat before heading out to the lab.

It was rare that the alarms on his phone woke him up before she did.

It was rare for him to wake up without the aid of either of these things.

She was most likely having a go at one of his trainers in the hallway, he thought as he tossed the blankets off himself and got up.

He scratched sleepily through his hair as he shuffled to the bathroom. His eyes barely open, just enough to see that he didn’t bump into any walls. He hadn’t lived in this new apartment very long, and body-checking walls was a common occurrence. He brushed his teeth sluggishly and dropped his toothbrush back in the holder when he was finished. He splashed water on his face with a little sigh before standing up, finally opening his eyes up to look in the mirror.

There was a clatter as he flailed back, tripping on a rug. He fell straight on his ass, his back hitting hard against the rim of a freestanding bathtub. He yelped a curse and curled into himself, bracing a hand against the floor.

He stood up again, though shakily, so he could look himself in the mirror.

The first thing he noticed was the hair. Sticking up at all different angles, something of a strawberry blond color. The next thing he noticed was the nose, and then the eyes. He leaned forwards, taking in the foreign face staring back at him. He prodded at his cheek, watching it as he stretched it out. His teeth. Straight and white. Sharp canines.

Ben blinked twice at himself in the mirror before looking over his shoulder in the glass. Pebbled tiles, an array of colors that shone in the light from the window set into the other wall. The basin was fixed into a cabinet, with drawers and cabinets with black painted doors. The sink in his bathroom was free standing, his walls cream and peach colored.

He was standing in his soulmate’s home and didn’t even realize it until he was knocked flat on his ass, what the _fuck_ , Benjamin?

Running his hands through his soulmate’s hair, he groaned. He dragged his hands down his face. He peeked at himself from between his fingers. Oh gods. He was gorgeous, with his messy hair and sleepy green eyes. Adorable, really.

Ben wanted to know who his soulmate was, what was his name? What did he do for a living? God, where did he _live_? He wanted to know everything! He—

He was cut off by a tentative knock at the door frame.

A shorter man peeked into the room. He was handsome. He had curly hair and an awkward, uneasy way about him. He looked like he didn’t know how to hold himself, all tucked in an a half-smile just _radiating_ apology.

“I’ve made breakfast,” he said. He was British. A spark of giddiness lit up in Ben’s chest. If this man (his soulmate’s roommate, maybe?) was from England, too, then maybe they didn’t live too far apart.

Ben had heard stories upon stories where a person had met their soulmate and they lived in Italy, or Russia, or God forbid all the way across the pond to America. It would be so wonderful to have someone close, so they could get to know each other easily.

He grinned at the man, his face softening. “Thanks, mate,” he said. His voice sounded odd to his ears, and he wished the man would go away so he could talk and hear it some more. “I’ll be in in a bit.”

The man nodded, looking at him for another moment before pushing himself off the door post to leave. He paused, his body looking tense. Ben’s brow furrowed worriedly.

“Uh,” the man said, trailing off slightly. “I’ve got something big to discuss with you, if that’s alright. So don’t take your time.”

And with that quite ominous message, he left Ben to frown after him.

Maybe he should have told him that Ben wasn’t really his roommate, or friend, or whatever? He just really wanted a moment to himself for now, time to let this sink in. To process.

This business the man wanted to discuss, it sounded serious. Something big. Something that was none of Ben’s business. Good fuck, he needed to go set the man straight. He cast the mirror one last worried glance before he headed out of the bathroom.

He ended up in the kitchen, which smelled of fresh omelettes that made Ben’s mouth water. There was a plate set out on the island counter, clearly for Ben, because the other man held his in his hand as he waited by the coffee maker.

“So, uh, I’ve something to tell you,” the man said. He set his plate down so he could pour himself a cup of coffee. Ben watched him pour a measure of almond milk into his mug, and brush his dark, curly hair out of his eyes before he took a sip.

Ben shifted uncomfortably. “Actually, I think I should go first.”

  


Joe tapped the phone against his chin, trying to think of just what the fuck to do.

Rami wasn’t picking up.

Rami wasn’t picking up, and he was in a house with a stranger trapped in Joe’s body. Sure, the stranger was supposed to be Joe’s soulmate, but Jesus _fuck_ , dude’s still a stranger!

A damn good looking stranger, but that is _beside_ the point.

Joe had gotten a glimpse of himself as he travelled the little apartment. A mirror stood at the end of the hallway. Joe had to find the switch to the hall light just to get a better look at himself.

His soulmate looked _young_ . Like 20s. He was blond and fit, and handsome. Joe squinted at himself, almost to say “ _are you sure?”_ to the universe, because _really_? Because the kid looked like a fucking model.

Look, beyond that. The man was running around with his body, not answering the phone, and making Joe _worry_.

Rami wasn’t one to ignore phone calls unless he was in a meeting, and Joe knew that he wouldn’t be in one at _this_ time of day.

It was 2pm where Joe was right now. Where was that, you ask? London.

_London._

He’d asked Siri “Where the fuck am I?” and his answer didn’t disappoint. Surprised the shit out of him, but it didn’t disappoint. Christ alive, what else was life going to throw at him today?

His soulmate’s dog — Frankie, his tag read — kept jumping at his heels, undoubtedly wanting to go for a walk or something.

He had picked him up and scratched behind his ears, maintaining his excuse that _We can’t go out right now, your daddy’s_ **_soulmate_ ** _is having a crisis._

Frankie was none too amused, so Joe did get dressed and walked him around the block twice. He went to the bathroom, Joe had to clean up said bathroom break, it was a general stressful time.

They were back in the apartment. It was 2pm. Rami hadn’t yet picked up his phone, even though it was almost 9am at home in New York. Rami was usually up and around by then, getting his day going and trying to pry Joe into getting his going.

This was odd. He felt so helpless, trapped in a foreign country in another’s body, unable to check on the one he loved most.

He was nearly ready to call up his mom and see if _she_ could get ahold of Rami. Better yet, he thought with a start, he could’ve called _Lucy_.

Hearing his shtick, she would probably drive up to their house herself.

Not yet, he thought, he’d try one more time.

He pulled up his own phone number this time, praying to God that he actually left his ringer on.

  


Gwil’s mouth pursed. You know, they looked awfully happy and in love in those photos, but his soulmate’s husband seemed like a real bore in real life. They ate the omelettes in a tense silence, glancing at each other before getting caught and dropping their eyes. Gwilym had expected a layer of warmth. A kiss on the cheek and a _good morning darling,_ to start this whole thing off. Not _this_.

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. He cleared his throat tightly. “I have something to tell you—” He began adjusting his coffee the way he liked it (save the almond milk. He preferred whole, but there didn’t seem to be a dairy product in the house. He wasn’t sure for whose benefit.), when the other man cut him off.

“Actually, I think ought to go first,” he announced, looking tense and generally uncomfortable.

Dear God. He looked so serious. Gwilym’s mind instantly jumped to the worst. He got the mental image of this man serving him divorce papers when he didn’t even know Gwil wasn’t his partner. All sorts of bad scenarios ran through his mind lightning-fast before the man winced delicately, flashing his pretty white teeth.

“I’m your mate’s soulmate,” the statement came out rather like a question. His expression was basically one scruffy question mark. “I mean, we switched in the night. I… woke up like this. Unironically, that wasn’t a joke setup.”

Gwilym stared at him. He blinked once. And then again.

“I’m sorry, what?” he said, voice flat and stiff.

The ginger man looked like he was kicked down a snow-covered hill, all panicked and in a flurry. “I dunno. I mean, I went to bed in my own apartment, and suddenly I wake up here in this man’s body. That’s soulmates,” he said, prodding a finger in the air as if to make his point. “ We’ve Connected.” He looked a little flushed, like he rather liked the idea of being soulmates with this man, so far. This married man’s soulmate.

Dear God, what kind of universally fucked up joke was this?

The man gave an awkward laugh and stepped forwards, his hand offered to shake. “My name’s Ben, pleasure to meet you.”

Gwilym looked at his hand for a second before he gave him a firm shake. “Gwilym Lee,” he said. “And I think you ought to sit down.”

The man, Ben, frowned at him. “What for?”

Gwilym nodded to Ben’s left hand. “Dunno if you’ve noticed, but I think we’ve gotten ourselves into a bit of a jam.” He lifted his hand to show the wedding band. “Because from what I gather, these two,” he flicked his hand between them, voice going low and conspiratorial, “are married, and we’re their soulmates.”

Ben‘s mouth opened like he’d forgotten how to form words altogether. “Sorry?” he blurted after a long, _long_ moment.

Gwil sighed and sipped his coffee. He leaned a hip back against the counter and looked at Ben. “I woke up the same as you did. Different body, different house. He’s quite a bit shorter than I am. I think I’d tower.” Ben hummed in acknowledgement. “I’ve tried phoning my flat, but my soulmate, whomever he is, just isn’t answering my calls. I’m at a bit of a loss.”

“Alright,” Ben murmured, he crossed his arms and thumbed at his chin. “Then now what?” Gwil didn’t answer, not because he didn’t know how (though that part was true) rather because there was a trill farther in the house, coming from the bedroom. Ben bit his lip and cast Gwil a look.

“I should get that,” he said, edging around Ben so he could make a pass for the ringing phone. The phone Gwil left in the bathroom was left silent. After a moment of searching, he found the trilling device dropped carelessly on the floor on the far side of the bed.

He picked it up and answered it on what must have been last ring.

“Oh, thank _God_ , Rams!” a relieved sigh came from the other line. “I’ve been trying to get ahold of you all morning.”

“Uh,” Gwil licked his lips. He looked to Ben before setting the call on speakerphone. “Who is this, please.”

“Right!” the man exclaimed. “My voice is shot. Listen, Rami. It’s Joe. I-I think I Connected last night. I’m in fucking London right now.”

Ben’s face scrunched up, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Gwil wasn’t far behind him.

“Rami? Are you okay? Have you seen him? Talked to him? He hasn’t tried to do anything weird, has he?”

“ _Hey!_ ” Ben cried out, indignant.

 _Joe_ , Ben’s apparent soulmate, Gwil’s soulmate’s husband — this was getting too convoluted, he realized. Gods, this was such a mess — let out a little yell. “I think that’s my voice. That’s my voice, right? Sounds like me on recording. Which — _fuckin’ weird_. Rams, you’re not helping a whole lot, here.”

“Right, about that,” Gwil started. He sat heavily on the edge of the bed and rubbed his forehead. Ben stood before him, watching him warily, like he thought Gwl was going to pass out or something. Maybe he wasn’t too off-target. “Joe, was it?”

“Rami, what the fuck is up with that accent—?”

“Joe. Listen to me. Last night you Connected with a man named Ben—”

“I can do it!” Ben butt in, protest sharp as he snagged the phone from Gwil’s hands. “Right. Hi. So, I’m Ben. You’re, uh… soulmate.”

“Okay, yeah. The one who lives in England with the apartment and the dog and the good hair.”

Gwilym watched Ben absolutely _beam_ at that last bit. “Right, yes. Well, last night, it looked like the same thing happened to your… husband, is it? Pretty eyes, curly hair?”

Joe made a soft sound. “I’m sorry, can you repeat that?”

Gwil held his hand out for the phone, and was awful pleased when Ben handed he device over. “Hi Joe, good morning. My name is Gwilym—”

“You both do realize how this sounds, right?” Joe cut him off, sounding sullen. “Pretty fucking cruel practical joke, to me. I’m — Rami, I am in _London_. I walked a dog today, and he pissed on my foot. I can’t handle this, too.”

“Believe me, this isn’t the most ideal situation,” Gwil granted. “But I am serious. I tried to get in contact with, uh… Rami, you said?”

“Yeah,” Joe confirmed, his tone clipped. He still didn’t believe them, and Gwil didn’t blame him in the slightest.

“Okay. Well,  I’ve called my own phone multiple times, but there hasn’t been an answer. It should be right near him, since it was near me when I went to sleep.”

Joe took a second to breathe. “Look guys,” he started off stiffly. “I know first soulmate conversations are supposed to be all giddy and everything, and this is very much _not_ … I need to sit down.”

There was a rustle on the other end of the line, Joe moving around Ben’s apartment and an eventual heaving sigh.

“There’s beer in the fridge,” Ben offered absently, teething at the side of his thumbnail. Gwilym wondered what he looked like normally, if his fingernails were all chewed up. He wondered what “good hair” meant to this Joe.

Joe murmured a “no thanks,” and that was the end of that. The conversation drifted into silence, and Gwil had no clue what to say. Sorry about this inconvenience? Sorry I don’t know where your husband is? _Sorry that I’ve Connected with your husband—_

God, what a terrible way to phrase that. That reeked of adultery and a decade or so of betrayals. _We just can’t fight this connection anymore… I’m leaving you for him!_

Gwilym would have no part in it. He ran his hands through his hair, tugging a little on the curls. This was ridiculous.

His eyelashes fluttered as he came back to himself. “You’re in London?”

Ben hummed, “yeah,” in the same time Joe said, “that’s what Google says.”

“I can give you my house address,” he offered. “If you’re close enough, you could check on him?”

“Perfect, tell me. Hang on, wait, I need something to write it down.”

“There’s a pad next to the coffee machine,” Ben offered up. “Pen in the drawer.” Joe relayed a quick _nice_ before going on his search. Ben looked quizzically at Gwil before climbing up onto the bed. He settled against the headboard, and Gwil twisted to face him, tucking an ankle under the opposite knee. “You live in London?” Ben asked, “bit lucky, isn’t it?”

Joe, surprisingly, was the one to reply. “I, personally, am counting it as a blessing for now,” he piped up. “At least he isn’t in somewhere like Philly, or something, out of reach of all of us. Oh my God, what if he ended up in Bali? Or Paris? I’d be less stressed out if he ended up in Paris, honestly, because at least he knows his way around.”

“Is he from there?” Ben asked. That’d be an interesting combo they’d all make. Two Londoners, a Parisian, and a New Yorker. Absolutely wild.

Gwil scooted farther up the bed to settle next to Ben. They mirrored each other, with their legs stretched out in front of them. Ben smoothed a hand down his jaw, and Gwil watched as he traced careful fingers on his skin, drawing a line from his forehead all the way down to his Adam’s apple.

Joe made a negative sound in his throat. “No, he’s a California native. We just lived in Paris for about a year and a half before coming back to New York. We did a lot of exploring, got to know the lay of the land. You know. Alright, I found the stuff. What’s the address?”

Gwil listed it off for him, and then again, just to make sure it was correct.

Ben straightened up a little, snatching his hands away from where he was fiddling with his soulmate’s ear. “That’s not far,” he told Joe. He held his hand out for the phone, and Gwil handed it over. He climbed off the bed to search for proper day clothes while Ben gave Joe directions to his flat. The closet was separated, but Gwil hadn’t a damn prayer in figuring out whose side was whose.

He ended up pulling out a smart pair of trousers and a lavender button down. Simple, he thought, and fitting. He changed quickly in the bathroom, leaving his pajamas in the basket in a little alcove under a shelf of towels.

Ben smiled at him as he came back, the phone was tossed in the middle of the mattress, the call ended.

Gwil rubbed his hands down his jeans for a tense little moment. This was awkward, wasn’t it? He had absolutely no clue what to say to this man. They’d been through how crazy, how unprecedented this whole thing was…

He licked his lips. “Would you like to help me clean up the mess I made in the kitchen?”

  


Rami took it wonderfully, he thought.

Well, as well as he could, under the circumstances.

He was lying face-down on his soulmate’s couch, his head throbbing on a steady, unrelenting beat.

A quilt was tucked around his shoulders to fight against the cold of the room. Sure, he’d set the thermostat down a few degrees, but it was just a weird tick. He liked the house cold, it was just how he ran. He clicked the thermo down three more degrees so he could have the comfort of a blanket in this trying time. He was being put through the ringer, sue him, okay?

He was lying at an odd angle, tilted so that his legs, bent at the knee, could be tucked into the couch. Otherwise, his feet would poke out of the quilt, and they would hang off the edge of the sofa.

His soulmate was _tall_. It was a fucking adjustment, but then again, it wasn’t like Rami had done a lot of standing thus far in this fiasco of a day.

The longest he’d been up and around was when he was looking for a cell phone, a landline, a _something_. All he had found was a laptop, which he couldn’t get into because it was password protected, and Rami didn’t have a prayer.

With his gentle hopes of calling his husband and the owner of this tall, tall body dashed against the rocks, Rami dragged the quilt from the bedroom to the couch. And now he was here.

The curtains were drawn, and the lights shut off. It was one of those light sensitivity things, and they were terrible. At least he was able to rest here, with his cheek pressed into a throw pillow. The pain came in waves, crashing over him in an undulating rhythm that stole his breath in the worst way.

His fingers curled into the collar of his tee shirt before he could berate himself for stretching out a shirt that wasn’t his. He’d done it to a few of Joe’s shirts, he’d admit. Was Joe mad about it? Not really, but Rami still felt kind of guilty about it.

He wondered what Joe was doing right now, if he was chatting it up with whomever Rami had Connected with. He hoped that they were getting along, as well as they could be. This wasn’t really a situation any of them could help, and they’d only make it worse by fighting about it, Rami thought. He hoped that they were able to find a common ground and be sensible with each other.

If not, this was really going to suck.

Almost as much as this fucking headache. He buried his face in the throw pillow and shut his eyes, determined to take another nap.

 

This nap taking venture… it didn’t get very far off the ground. Rami’d just shut his eyes when the doorbell went off.

And then it went off again.

And again.

It was like someone was jackhammering their finger into the doorbell, desperately calling for his attention like a hyped-up peacock. He groaned and pulled the pillow up over his head, pulling it tight around his ears in order to alleviate the spike of pain squelching his brains between kneading fingers.

The fucking ringing didn’t let up.

Rami said a silent prayer, just _hoping_ that this wasn’t any of the neighbors, because Rami was about to cuss a blue streak in any Pam-From-Next-Door’s face just so he could get some peace and _quiet_.

Jesus, he needed a breather.

Another ring drilled into his ears and he hissed, chucking the pillow aside. He hauled himself up from the couch, but kept the quilt tight around his shoulders as he trailed downstairs to the front door.

Rami hadn’t done much exploring of the house, but from what he could tell, it was a cozy little townhouse. He hadn’t been downstairs but for a few minutes — mostly to search for the kitchen to get a glass of water. He didn’t find the kitchen, and he ended up drinking from the tap in the bathroom. Desperate times, and all that — and he certainly hadn’t travelled _up_. He’d stayed firmly in the bedroom/living area bracket on the second floor, thank you. Kept out of trouble, and firmly in his wallow of misery.

That might have been a little dramatic, but that’s what a severe headache will to do a man. Make him melodramatic.

He unlocked the heavy deadbolt in the front door, but left the chain on before answering the door.

The ringing stopped short, and there was a very surprised sort of noise that took its place. It wasn’t much better.

A blond man stood close to the door. He looked young, but determined in whatever cause he was currently after, with a furrow in his brow and a set in his jaw.

“Can I help you?” he asked pointedly when the man just stared up at him through the crack in the door. He blinked at Rami, looking not dissimilar to an owl.

He laughed tightly, rubbing the back of his neck. Rami frowned at him thoughtfully. He cast Rami a little smile, and Rami was _oh_ , so close to just shutting the door again, when he spoke.

“Rami?”

Right. This was traditionally when one shuts the door in the stranger’s face and barricades themselves in the house. Rami just frowned at him, his brow knitting together. “Sorry?”

Altogether, the man melted, wincing painfully. He cursed softly and stepped back, raising a phone to his ear. This was suspicious, oh my God, Rami was going to get murdered. If—

If one, hypothetically, got murdered while swapped with their soulmate, would they die… or would their soulmate die?

If Rami died here, would his soulmate be trapped in his body forever? How would they even communicate something like that back to his soulmate? How the fuck are you supposed to rebuild a life from that?

“—No, Gwilym, this is number one-thirty-four. Yeah, the one with the blue letterbox. Okay. Alright, yeah.” He glanced back to Rami with a look of exasperation. Like the times when Joe would look at him, his face just screaming _can you get a load of this guy?!_ “So—” He spoke to Rami, this time. He brushed his hair out of his eyes, huffing in frustration, looking like his hair had a mind of its own today, and he was _sick_ of it.

“Okay, so this is gonna sound fucking crazy, but bear with me—”

The rest of his words were left in an indignant splutter as Rami shut the door in his face. There was too much going on today to add one more wacky-ass element to the pile. He locked the deadbolt after him.

The man knocked on the door. “Rami, wait!” he cried. Rami pulled the blanket around his shoulders like it as a shield to the world. He was going to go back and see if he could find a phone. Surely there was someone to call when crazy individuals showed up at your door, calling you by name. Oh wait, that was the police. “It’s Joe. Promise, it’s Joey.”

Stopping mid-step, he tilted back, trying to hear what the man was saying through the door.

“You swapped this morning with a man named Gwilym. I did the same thing, but my guy is named Ben. They live on opposite ends of the same city, which would be kind of hilarious, if we weren’t in the middle of London right now…”

Rami twisted the deadbolt and yanked the door open as far as the chain would let it. “We’re in London?”

“Haven’t been outside today, have you?” the man asked. He just looked relieved that Rami was speaking to him again.

“Does it look like I’ve been outside?” Rami deadpanned, raising a critical eyebrow. It got a laugh, the man’s face brightening up.

“Yeah, not really,” he granted. “I know this is a lot of shit, and honestly, I think I’m in the middle of a fever dream. Or a shitty daytime soap.” Rami squinted at him, blinking harshly against the sun in his eyes. “I took a taxi here, which I honestly feel pretty guilty about, because I used my soulmate’s credit card. I mean, I had Ben’s permission, but still, you know? Ben’s the guy I Connected with.”

Rami shifted, scratched at his beard for a second. The man looked at him through the crack in the door, a harrowing expression on his face. He shut his mouth with a click, intent on listening to whatever Rami had to say. “You say that you’re Joe?” he asked, “Prove it. Tell me something only you could know. Oh, tell me who proposed.”

The man frowned, and there was a little furrow between his brows. “I did, but I lost the ring in the laundry. The ring box is all fucked up, now. It’s in that tote in our closet.” Rami nodded his approval, and he went on. “We bought our first house together and had to move out immediately because the electrical wiring was all fucked up. We stayed with my mom for a month before we just stuck a cot in the upper living space in the studio.”

Rami shut the door again, but this time he took the chain off before letting Joe in.

  


Ben washed, Gwil dried. It was easy to get lost in the methodical work. Of washing, and then handing the dishes off, to making blind guesses as to where said dishes might belong.

Eventually, all was well and finished. Ben was sitting on the island counter with an apple in his hand, while Gwil made tea. They chatted idly as they went, getting to know each other. Gwilym told Ben about his work as a photographer currently in the hands of an up-and-rising cosmetics company. Ben, in turn, told him about the lab he worked for, the processes of testing petroleum samples.

Gwil was eager to listen, asking questions and listening to their answers intently. Ben found it incredibly endearing. He had to catch himself multiple times, to yank himself out of a flirtatious headspace so he could focus back in on the conversation. Focus on remembering their situation.

Ben hung out as Gwilym put a basket of laundry in the washer, fiddling with knobs and washing detergents. He situated on a bucket labelled _DINING ROOM PAINT_ and crossed his legs, leaning back against the wall. He messed with his fingers, looking at his soulmate’s — _Joe’s_ , he corrected himself. He had a name, thank you, Benjamin —  knuckles, and how neat his nails were.

“I’ve got nieces,” Gwilym said, shrugging. It was an answer to the question posed to him minutes before. They’d reached the end of easy topics, and in a quiet moment Ben asked, albeit awkwardly, _got any kids_? “Darling little things.” He reached into the front pockets of a pair of trousers, fishing out a spare receipt before chucking them in the washer’s barrel. “None of my own, though. You?”

Ben shook his head. “Nah. Can barely keep a bloke down, let alone a slew of little ones.” He shrugged a shoulder. “Got a dog, she’s enough for me.”

Gwilym hummed. “I’ll say I’m more of a cat person, but I, in fact, do not have a cat.”

Ben scoffed a little and scrubbed his nose with the back of his hand. “To each his own,” he said, “but you’re wrong.” Gwilym laughed, and Ben decided that he very much liked the sound of it.

Gwil continued to sort through the laundry, pausing only when he spotted a little, well, _spot_ on the leg of a pair of trousers. He made an unhappy sound and looked through the cabinets again, presumably for some sort of stain remover. He found a Tide pen in one of the top shelves. It was a struggle getting it down, Gwil cursing all the way, but he was eventually able to take his frustrations out with gently scrubbing out the stain with the pen.

“I wonder how they’re both taking it” Gwil mused later.

Ben blinked a few times before hauling himself up to stand. “Dunno,” he offered. He was surprised that Gwilym brought it back up. He seemed keen not to talk about it at all, if they could.

He shut the washer and turned it on. It was noisy, filling the silence as it filled the barrel with water. Gwilym crossed his arms and leaned back against the counter, facing Ben. He had a thoughtful little look on his face, a little morose, if Ben said so himself.

“How are _you_ taking it?” he asked.

Ben shrugged a shoulder and shoved his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. “By the minute. As you can, right?”

He hummed dismissively. “It’s troublesome, isn’t it?”

“Well, it isn’t _easy_.”

“They’re _married_ ,” Gwil burst, cutting him off. He looked instantly apologetic. “I’m sorry, but it is terrible, isn’t it? We’ve Connected with a married couple.”

Ben made an unhappy sound and put his hand on Gwilym’s arm. “We’re not divorcing them. We’ve just Connected. Lots of Connected pairs aren’t even together. It’s… more of a suggestion, if anything. It’s not final.”

“You can’t tell me that you haven’t been thinking about it all day,” Gwil said, his eyes holding a look that was _terribly_ sad. “Life with a soulmate.”

“I might be,” Ben relented. He sighed and led Gwil out of the room. He heard Gwil flick off the light switch and shut the door, muffling the sound of the washing machine. “But that doesn’t have to mean anything.” He turned to face Gwil, taking in the sharp jaw and the big bright eyes that didn’t belong to him. “They’ll talk together, we’ll talk to them, and it’ll all be taken care of.”

Gwil scrunched his nose up, like he’d just recalled the smell of something truly horrid. “I feel like a homewrecker,” he confessed.

Ben rolled his eyes. “We’re not homewreckers.” He grinned before continuing, “if anything, we’re helpful little sprites, cleaning their house, doing their laundry.” Gwilym’s gloominess split with a brilliant smile, and Ben felt like _dancing_ . “They’re _lucky_ to have soulmates like us, mate.”

“They are, aren’t they?” his tone was playful, and Ben was just happy to see his dark mood dissipate.

  


Joe sat at the end of the sofa. The legs in his lap went on for days, draping off the opposite end of the sofa as Rami laid out flat on his back. He had an arm over his eyes and an ice pack under his neck. One of his migraines had hit him at one of the worst times. Joe was just glad he was in a safe place when it did.

“So.”

Rami jumped in surprise, his arm jerking up so he could look at Joe. He relaxed within seconds, melting back into the sofa like a cornstarch and water mix left to sit. “I keep forgetting your voice,” he explained. His arm crooked over the back of the couch as he looked dazedly at Joe. “It’s different.”

“Speak for yourself,” Joe shot back with a smile. He kneaded Rami’s calf and slumped into the couch. “Is there anything I can get you?”

“Nothing comes to mind.” He pulled the ice pack up and readjusted the dishtowel it was wrapped in before craning his neck, replacing it _just so_. He squirmed until he was satisfied again. He rubbed his hands across his face, scratching through the beard his soulmate kept. His soulmate was very handsome. Joe could place the accent pared with this body perfectly. He couldn’t link the voice and the accent yet, but that was because Rami’s vocal patterns were stuck in his mouth right now.

Soulmates were a trip on your own, but with this many variables, it was a monster all its own.

Soulmates.

Joe let his head drop back to the couch, his breath leaving him sharply.

“Are you worried?” Rami asked in a quiet tone.

“About what?” Joe’s fingers tapped along Rami’s calf, tracing his fingers lightly across his skin.

“Joey.”

Joe picked his head up to find Rami already staring at him, a thoroughly unimpressed look stamped into his face. “Yeah, alright. A little. It’s not— I don’t even know why it’s shaken me up so fucking much. It’d be easier to deal with this if just one of us had Connected, but with us both…”

“Sounds like a universal sign that we messed this up somehow,” Rami supplied. And there it was. Rami had hit it right on the head.

“Exactly.”

“We didn’t.”

“Yeah, I _know_ that.” Joe scrubbed at his eyes, feeling tired. Rami took his left leg out of Joe’s lap and instead tucked it behind Joe’s back. Joe turned to face him, hand braced on Rami’s thigh. “I love you.”

Rami pulled a face at him. “Excuse me, sir, I’m married.”

Joe snorted at him, “Married, huh?”

“Oh yes.” He reached out for Joe’s hand, and Joe helped ease him up. Rami winced, his eyes screwing shut for a moment as another wave of pain hit him. Joe smoothed a hand up his arm in comfort as he worked through it. After it passed, Rami gently eased his eyes open. “Yeah, and you know, he gets on my nerves sometimes, but I wouldn’t trade him for anything in the world. Not even some crummy soulmate.”

Joe, for all his newly deep voice, strange body, and the blond hair clipped so short he could feel the breeze against his head, beamed at Rami. The words blanketed around him like a sure comfort, something lovely and familiar. “I love you,” he said as he let Rami draw him in, wrapping arms around his shoulders. “We’ll switch back soon, and then everything can go back to business as usual.”

Rami’s hum was noncommittal, and Joe waited for a moment for his reply.

He didn’t get one straight away.

He tapped Rami’s arm twice before pulling back, a frown etched into his brow.

Rami gave a small laugh. “You’re gonna give him frown lines,” he warned, smoothing his palm across Joe’s forehead.

“It is going to be business as usual, right, Rami?” he pressed, ignoring his little comment.

Rami held his eyes with a calm air. Before he said anything, he reached behind him for his ice pack so he could press it against the base of his skull. Joe’s skin crawled with doubt, traces of fear licked at the top of his spine, sharp and cold. “Nothing’s going to happen to us,” Rami told him, voice firm. He grabbed Joe’s hand and held it tight. The feel of it was all wrong, hands the wrong sizes, calluses in the wrong places. Nevertheless, Joe held on tight.

“I am sensing a ‘but,’” he said warily.

“But,” Rami said with a little nod. “It wouldn’t be very fair to them, would it?” The sound Joe made got stuck half-way up his throat, desperate and very much unhappy. “Now hang on. I’m not saying open up our marriage. I’m just saying we shouldn’t drop them because there’s nothing romantic there. We should at least meet them. At most, we get to know them and become friends, you know. And if it goes sideways, well…”

“They live in Europe and it’s not like we’ll be bumping into them at the grocery store, I get it,” Joe granted, picking up the slack. Things went quiet for a moment. Joe thumbed along Rami’s cheekbone, looking into bright blue eyes. “Alright,” he relented. He made to lean in before stopping himself short. “It wouldn’t be very cool to make out in their bodies, would it?”

Rami grinned wickedly and kissed Joe’s temple. “Yeah, maybe not. I’ll kiss you good morning when we get back to normal,” he promised.

“I can live with that,” Joe laughed.

They stayed like that for a while longer, all wrapped up in each other, with Joe pressing the barely cool ice pack against Rami’s skin.

After some time, Joe pulled away and climbed off the couch. He went to stick the ice pack back in the freezer, and maybe scrounge them up something to eat while he was in there.

He left Rami Ben’s cell phone and disappeared into the kitchen.

  


The next few hours went like this:

Another call was made between the lot of them, and they were able to get a Skype call going on their different laptops. They set up in the kitchen — which they had found to be in the _basement_ , of all places! — with Joe poking around Gwilym’s kitchen for suitable things to make a meal with — and Ben and Gwilym tucked into one of the sofas in the living room, the TV running quietly in the background.

Rami was against the counter next to the stove, close to Joe, but his eyes never left the computer screen on the opposite cabinet.

He narrowed his eyes at the screen, slowly shaking his head. It caught the attention of Ben, and he looked at Joe’s laptop curiously, his eyebrows raising.

“What?” he asked innocently. Joe looked over his shoulder, watching the affair.

Rami just shook his head. It was like there was a cord threaded from his shoulders, to his face. As he shrugged, his face pulled with it. Near flabbergasted.

“Just strange to see myself fucking around without me,” he said a little wildly. That got a laugh, and he felt himself relax a bit more into this.

Said man plugging around without him, Gwilym, looked delighted at him. “It is different, isn’t it?”

“For some more than others,” Joe replied cheerily. He had a hand on a cabinet door with his neck craned all the way up to the top shelf. He muttered something that sounded dangerously close to _not even fuckin’ touching that_. “Babe, will you grab that colander up there?”

Rami, admittedly, liked the height thing.

He put the pot in Joe’s hands, smiling cheekily before booping his nose and going back to his previous position.

The atmosphere was settled, completely unlike anything Rami thought it would have been. They talked jobs. Gwilym and his photography, Benjamin and how he got into this crude oil testing business just out of college. They switched onto Joe and Rami, their story, and later on their careers — everything to do with the studio, and all of their little endeavors in between.

“Oh my God,” Ben, the one in Joe’s body, gasped, his face lighting up. That was such an odd thing to see, Rami thought. He was watching his husband’s face emote in ways he’d never seen before, watching a different light fill his eyes. It was a little jarring, if he was honest. “Joseph, do you by chance, _dance_?”

Rami pinched himself secretly in the side, forcibly pulling himself back to the present.

Joe scoffed, and Rami grinned, watching him puff up like a peacock. “ _Do I dance_ —” he muttered, starting off on a tangent Rami was happy to let him go on.

  


The Skype call ran mostly all day.

They had hiccups, yes. The wifi kicked out for all of three-quarters of an hour before they were back up and at it.

Gwilym expressed his regrets that Rami and Joe couldn’t go out and explore the city like most newly Connected people usually do, but they assured him that it was all fine and dandy. Rami revealed his migraine situation, and that’s all it took for Gwil to effectively drop the subject.

They did get out a little later on that evening, by switching apartments. Ben brought up his dog Frankie, and, well. Rami had to meet her. It was only a plus that they had to check on her, make sure she was fed and walked another time before bed.

Ben insisted that he could dictate a text for Joe to send to his next-door neighbour, for them to help with Frankie just for tonight. He didn’t want to trouble the two of them. Rami was damn _elated_ at the development.

Packing Gwil’s laptop, toothbrush, and a pair of pajamas into a backpack, the two were ready for the short journey across the city.

What did Gwilym and Ben have to do? Well, they took a dip in the pool and took advantage of such a sunny day.

The next time Skype connected found Rami’s face being licked all over by an adorable beagle, while Rami laughed joyfully.

There was a light in Joe’s eyes, a fondness that Gwil had been expecting from them from the moment he’d discovered the photos in the house. Love and connection, far beyond the manufactured bonds of a soulmate. Joe reached out and ran his fingers through Rami’s hair in a fit of intimacy that had Gwil’s heart thudding in his chest.

“There’s my girl!” Ben exclaimed suddenly. “Goodness, she’s taken quite the shine to you, hasn’t she?”

Rami hummed, scratching behind her ears. “I have known her for all of one hour, and I already adore her.”

Joe shrugged a shoulder and leaned back. The laptop was on the floor of what Gwil presumed to be Ben’s bedroom, with Joe stretched out on his back, propped up on his elbow. Rami was sitting with his legs in a pretzel, bent over so he could fawn over Frankie.

“She wasn’t too much trouble on the walk, then?” Ben asked.

“Nah,” Joe said, at the very same time Rami said, “ _She was great_.”

Gwil smiled at them. He felt nice, with sun soaked into his shoulders, and a general relaxation seeping into his bones. His hair was near-dry, smelling of chlorine. He had a towel around his neck to catch any stray drops threatening to soak into the collar of his tee.

He’d changed his clothes after getting out of the pool, this time picking something out of the more casual side of the closet.

“So, has anyone thought about what happens after we change back?” Ben asked, easy as you please, like he was fielding a question about lunch. _I was thinking sushi, how do you feel about sushi today?_

He tilted his head, tongue sucking at his teeth. The two on the screen exchanged looks, and Gwilym felt a sour feeling curdle in his stomach, like milk in orange tea.

“I think we should keep in contact,” Rami said, and it was like a breath of fresh air, lovely in Gwilym’s lungs. “See what happens. Maybe we could meet later on.”

“I’d like that,” Ben said, eager. Gwilym couldn’t stop the fond smile that came over him. “If nothin’ else, than to get a follow up to all this madness.”

“Follow up,” Gwil parroted, “writing a biography now, are we?” he teased. Ben knocked his shoulder into Gwil’s.

“Fuck off,” he admonished. “I just might. This _is_ biography material, after all.”

“Mmm,” Joe nodded, looking wise and altogether studious. “I’ve gotta agree. Biopic material, at _least_.”

Gwilym laughed, leaning his cheek into his palm, grinning.

This was easier than it should have been, Gwil thought. Maybe it was that good old soulmate connection, greasing the gears and making sure that everything was going smoothly, maybe they were just natural fits. Maybe their personalities just seemed to compliment each other.

He hadn’t a clue.

Just like how he didn’t have a clue in his goddamn mind where it was all going to end up, how they were going to come out in the end. But he had a tentative little suspicion that it might just be all okay

  


There were multiple sides to every story, some more than others. Often complicated and messy, there were twists and turns, and no one ever really knew what went next.

In the case of Gwil, Rami, Joe, and Ben, none of them knew for sure how to navigate this new situation they found themselves in. And _certainly_ none of them considered that this might be the beginning of the happiest years of their lives.

**Author's Note:**

> okay!! hope you liked it. i personally love this fic so much. i loved writing it very, very much. I've never really written anything like this (body swap kind of thing) before so it was lowkey a challenge, and i hope it wasn't painful to read lmao.
> 
> okay! please leave me a comment, they make me wanna write more (and that's always a very lovely time)!
> 
> [here's my tumblr](https://mazlektov.tumblr.com/). I post fic updates and stuff, if you'd like to see that. And... yeah, I think that's it. Thank you so much for reading!
> 
>  
> 
> ~~im going to go sleep for eternity, now.~~


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